


Set Sail

by coolangelsthesis



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fake TV Soap Operas, Fluff, M/M, My Professor Would Be Proud Of Me For Using Metafictional Techniques, Shipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 11:43:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8371015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolangelsthesis/pseuds/coolangelsthesis
Summary: When your husband doesn't ship the same pairing that you do, drastic actions have to be made.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt that I can't remember where I found: “we’ve been binge watching this show for a while and then i found out u didn’t ship my otp so i spent the rest of the day convincing u to ship them together” au

It all started as an innocent gesture. Something to help Aoba with his German—to get the pronunciation right, to hear the subtle incantations in speech that a textbook couldn’t really convey.

Something mindless, really. Background noise when neither of them felt like going to bed, not just yet.

Aoba didn’t mean to get obsessed, really. But watching the sob-story drama of soap opera characters was  _ much _ more interesting than reciting the same words and phrases over and over again. And when Noiz wasn’t busy at work, he was there right beside Aoba, taking in every last second of melodrama.

So maybe they had become a little addicted to a television show meant for aging stay-at-home moms and doctor’s offices. One day they’re watching it ironically, to laugh about the absurd plot twists and bad lighting, then the next, they’re having a long discussion about a character’s motives over pork udon.

“Come on, she’s clearly trying to get with that doctor because he looks like her dead husband,” Aoba said, talking in between mouthfuls of noodle. “She’s not in it for the money.”

“Really?” Noiz looked unimpressed. He leaned over to take a piece of pork from Aoba’s bowl; his husband batted his hand away. “I think it’s obvious Sofia’s only interested because she knows he can pay her debt. Why else would she be checking his accounts?”

“Curiosity… I guess? Or maybe she cares, doesn’t want to see him go into debt—”

“ _ Or _ she wants his money.”

Aoba rolled his eyes, nudging Noiz with his elbow. “Whatever. Besides, everybody knows Sofia’s just a filler character. It’s all about Heimlich and Amelie, they’re made to be together.”

There was a sudden silence, stretched out and uncomfortable.

Noiz broke it after taking in a sharp exhale.

“You can’t be serious,” he said, giving Aoba a look of confusion, shock even. “Amelie was just inserted because a small group of people got upset that Emily left the show. They even sound similar—Amelie. Emily.”

“What are you talking about? That doesn’t mean anything!” Aoba frowned. “W-Wait, so does that mean… you don’t want them to get together?”

“Of course not. They’re terrible for each other.”

Aoba’s face went blank. “… Oh my god. Noiz, we’ve been watching the same show for  _ weeks _ and you didn’t even tell me that you— you don’t—” He groaned in frustration. “Who do you want to get together then!?”

Noiz cocked his head, clearly enjoying getting Aoba riled up. “The only one that makes any sense: Heimlich and his secretary, Anna.”

Aoba almost spilled his half-empty bowl over the couch from shooting up too quickly. “ _ What _ ?! He cheated on Emily with her! When they were in Paris on their honeymoon! That’s awful!”

Noiz simply shrugged then finished the last remnants of his dinner. He stood up, kissed away the pout on his lips. Aoba just turned red.

“Are you mad at me?” Noiz asked, taking the bowl out of Aoba’s hands. “If you are, I’ll do the dishes. To make up for it.”

“I’m not… mad…” Aoba was suddenly hyper-aware of an askew pillow on the couch. “B-But I guess, if you want… you can do the dishes… for having bad opinions.”

Noiz chuckled under his breath. “Fair enough.” He stole another kiss, then went on his way to the kitchen.

*

They spoke very little after that for the rest of the night. Only in short phrases— you can use the shower now, I’m going to bed, love you, goodnight.

When Noiz woke up the next morning, the bed next to him was empty. In fact, he could hardly remember feeling Aoba by his side when he would periodically wake up throughout the night.

Aoba couldn’t have been  _ that _ mad… could he? His husband was temperamental, yes, but their disagreements weren’t anything that would create such unbridled tension between them. If Aoba cared  _ that _ much about some trash television show, Noiz would make him happy, he didn’t care.

But this… this was just weird.

Slowly rising out of bed, Noiz rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and checked their bathroom. Not there, either.

A soft, distant sound like the clicking of keyboard keys caught his attention. It was coming from somewhere in their apartment, but from the ajar bedroom door, all Noiz could see was pitch black.

Even weirder.

He took his time, taking cautious steps down the hallway to the living room. Peeking over the corner, Noiz saw a figure hunched over on the couch, a soft blue light casting shadows over its features. It was typing furiously—the source of the noise that had caught Noiz’s attention. They were typing in fervor, not even minding Noiz as he moved in closer.

He switched on the living room light and squinted as the brightness stung his eyes.

“Aoba?”

Noiz noticed his husband jump, startled and brought out of his thoughts. The light, too, blinded him and he took a few moments before realization set over his face.

“Oh… N-Noiz!” Aoba exclaimed, hopping up from the couch. “Good… good morning.”

Noiz could now discern the state he was in— Aoba’s hair was all over the place, messily played with; deep bags underneath his eyes, like he hadn’t gotten any sleep; a glassy, spaced out expression in his eyes, probably a side-effect of lack of sleep.

He narrowed his brows.

“Are you alright?” Noiz asked, stepping closer to rest a hand on Aoba’s shoulder. He looked like he was a gust of wind away from toppling over. “Did you get any sleep at all? What’s going on?”

“I was, uh… planning something.” Aoba pulled open his Coil and began typing, various pictures and files popping up on the holographic screen. He began talking as his fingers flew across the keys. “You know what you said last night? I kept thinking about it. About how you’re totally  _ wrong _ —”

“Wait.” Noiz stared in confusion. “Over that stupid show?”

“Yes, and it’s not stupid, it’s good… okay, entertaining. Anyway, I kept thinking about it and I got to the point where I just couldn’t sleep, so I decided to work on… this.”

The television switched on with what appeared to be some presentation— carefully crafted and put together. It read in big bold letters: “Why Heimlich and Amelie are meant to be together”, underneath it “By Aoba Seragaki, Proving Noiz Seragaki Wrong”.

Noiz shook his head in bewilderment.  _ This couldn’t really be happening. He was still dreaming, right? _

Aoba noticed and narrowed his eyes; he took hold of Noiz’s hands and brought him over to a space on the couch, then stood at the front of the living room. He looked almost business-professional if the matching puppy T-shirt and pajama pants weren’t dead giveaways.

“Alright,” Aoba said, clapping his hands together. He switched to the next slide— fancifully done with cascading hearts replacing the screen for the next. “As we both know, Heimlich has been a main character in—”

Aoba continued on for minutes, never once slowing down or getting sidetracked. He had planned this speech; he had memorized it. He  _ really  _ cared. And if he was so passionate about something, Noiz would gladly listen to everything he had to say, no matter how silly it may be.

Honestly, Noiz was impressed. Aoba’s argument was sound, and even did background research to find out  _ everything _ about  _ every _ character. He even embedded a couple fan-made AMVs as the cherry on top.

“And that,” Aoba said, switching to the last slide, which was nothing more than a shoddily photoshopped picture of the pair together on the beach, “Is why they are meant to be together. Any questions?”

Noiz remained silent for a moment, mulling over his words. He stood up and stepped towards Aoba, moreso because of the fear that he would topple over at any second.

“Did you really spend all night working on this?”

“Well… not all night. I watched old episodes for research, too.”

“Wow. That’s dedication.”

Noiz had to bite his lower lip not to laugh. He wrapped Aoba in his arms and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Well, what can I say?” he began, tucking a strand of hair behind Aoba’s ear. He smiled softly. “I think you could win anyone over with that presentation.”

“So you… agree with me?” Aoba asked, mouth widening in a grin. “I’m right, huh?”

Noiz laughed under his breath and kissed him again. “Of course. But… you know who belongs together more than them?”

“Who?” Aoba cocked his head.

“ _ Us _ .” At that, Noiz lifted Aoba into his arms bridal-style, showering him all over in kisses. His husband laughed and tried to push him away.

“Noiz, that’s embarrassing!”

“Heh, whatever.”

A couple minutes later, Aoba was dead asleep in bed with Noiz at his side, watching as he took his well-deserved rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate ending where Aoba was writing fanfiction all night and read it aloud to Noiz.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading! ;3; Hashtag real talk... I've been having a pretty bad time mental health-wise, and writing has been absolutely painful. I'm really happy I was able to finish something and publish it! It may be silly and lighthearted, but I'm happy with how it turned out, and hope to write a whole lot more in the future!


End file.
